


On The Run

by MammothAmaryllis



Series: Finding Home [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: And I'm not sorry, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I still have a lot of feels about Seth's betrayal, I'm Ambrollins Trash, I'm Trash for all three of these Shield losers, Plot with a few dashes of porn, So y'all can have them all too, SpecOps!AU, SpecOps!Shield, This got sooo long, Wrestlers without any actual wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MammothAmaryllis/pseuds/MammothAmaryllis
Summary: When Dean, worried about Roman, comes to you for help, shit goes south quickly. You find yourself running from people you'd thought you could trust. The reappearance of Dean's former partner only complicates things further. Making you wonder if you three can even save Roman, or if you'll be on the run for the rest of your vastly shortened lives. SpecOps!Au





	On The Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theyseemerollins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyseemerollins/gifts).



> This story is a birthday present for my long-time, precious trash-bestie. She all but demanded it, and I was more than happy to oblige. So, enjoy the intensive amounts of angst and that delicious hurt/comfort. I couldn't help myself with the summary. I've been having way too much fun with this.

You burrowed your face deeper into Dean’s shoulder, your arms clasping tighter around his waist as a shiver blew through you. The wind had picked up again, damn it, howling outside the condemned building, through the cracks in the windows that hadn’t yet been shattered. Christ, it sounded like the wind was going to rip the roof off, send the building crumbling down around the two of you. Your muscles ached with your unfounded terror. But knowing the wind probably wasn’t going to be what killed you didn’t help lessen your fear.

Dean pulled his jacket taught as he tried to overlap the flaps behind your back. Your chest was near glued to his, but even held so close, a strip of your back was left exposed. The thin material of your shirt provided little protection from the chill night air. He’d offered to give his jacket to you, but you’d declined him. With his back to the brick wall, the warmth would be leeched from him within minutes. That would be no good for either of you.

So you’d swallowed your embarrassment and settled down in his lap, slipped your arms under his jacket to warm your chilled skin. You flexed your fingers again, warding off the slight numbness trying to set in. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, since it was early spring, but you didn’t understand how Dean had thought jeans, t-shirt, and his worn leather jacket would be the proper gear for a nighttime reconnaissance mission.

You rolled your eyes at yourself. At least he still _had_ a jacket. You’d left yours draped on the back of your chair, all the way back at the office. Not that it had been on purpose. You hadn’t really been in the proper headspace to check for wallet, phone, and keys as you raced from the building, Dean’s hand clasped around yours, practically dragging you behind him.

You hadn’t even been scheduled to work tonight. But when Dean’s number had lit up on the screen of your phone just as you’d been hunkering down in bed, you hadn’t been able to ignore it. He never called so late unless it was absolutely necessary. The wind was going to keep you up anyway. And he’d sounded stressed on the phone, jittery. You’d found out why when he’d pulled you into an alcove of the office parking garage as you strode for the elevator twenty minutes later.

You’d gasped a breath to scream, but his hand had slapped over your mouth and a strained “Just me, darlin’, don’t scream” had whispered in your ear.

You’d nodded, turning slowly to face him once he’d let you go.

“Sorry to bug you, darlin’,” he’d apologized, eyes darting around the near-empty garage, voice surprisingly subdued. “But I needed someone to do a traceless search, and right now I ain’t feeling very trusting of anyone at this company but you.”

“Why?” you’d asked, concern clear in your tone. “What happened?”

His eyes had flicked down to yours, and you’d realized they were bloodshot. “Better you don’t know, darlin’. Plausible deniability and all that shit.”

The first niggling of doubt had wormed its way down your spine. But Dean had never given you reason not to trust him before, so you’d nodded again. “What do you need searched?”

“Just set it up and I’ll punch in the pertinent details. I’m serious about the plausible deniability. I won’t drag you down with me if this goes south.”

You’d swallowed, but heard out his plan and headed up to the office first. Settled in your chair and logged into your profile, you’d waited, busying yourself with organizing your desk space to keep your fingers from shaking.

“Hey,” your office buddy, Becky, had greeted, popping her head over the edge of your cubicle. “What’re you doing in tonight? Thought you’d been given the week off.”

 _More like forced to take vacation by HR_ , you’d thought. “So did I,” you’d groused, shrugging. “But I got a call, so here I am.”

Becky had rolled her eyes. “Classic. Honestly this place would fall down on everyone’s heads if _we_ didn’t keep shit running.”

“Don’t I know it?”

Becky’s easy demeanor always managed to make you smile. Even under the strain of possible treason, you’d found your lips twitching.

“Charlotte and I are gonna grab breakfast after our shift. You wanna come?”

“Sure. As long as I can keep my eyes open. Hadn’t really planned on being here tonight.”

Becky had grinned. “We’ll make sure you don’t stumble out into the traffic.”

You’d opened your mouth only for your reply to die in your throat. Dean’s head had appeared over the edge of the cubicle next to yours as he sauntered toward you. Becky had followed your gaze, a knowing smile stretching her lips.

“Looks like Agent Ambrose is a man on a mission.” She’d winked at you. “Wonder what, or _who_ , that mission might be.”

Before you’d even had a chance to scold her for her waggling eyebrows, Becky had discreetly slipped away, leaving you flushed as Dean stopped at the opening of your cubicle. He’d leaned casually against the frame, folding his arms and crossing one boot in front of the other.

“Didn’t realize I’d get such a treat tonight, you being off and all.” He’d grinned at you, like he hadn’t been flustered and jumpy in a dark corner of the garage just minutes ago.

“You know how it is,” you’d said, clearing your throat as your flush grew. He was only playing, like he always did. He threw out compliments and insinuations like candy. “HR never seems to have their shit together.”

You two had chatted for a few minutes more before you’d excused yourself to the bathroom, leaving your desktop unlocked and vulnerable. Per the plan, you’d waited huddled in the stall then hunched over the sink for five nerve-wracking minutes. As you were pushing back out through the door, you’d heard a racket from the office floor.

Peeking out around the corner, you’d found Dean subduing two security guards, a baton coming down with a sickening crack over one guard’s jaw. Dean had spun, wild eyes snaring yours, and he’d started stalking toward you. Becky had moved to intercept him, but he’d merely grabbed her around the waist and sent her stumbling behind him. Reaching to steady her friend, Charlotte had growled. You’d been sure she would’ve decked Dean had he not been out of reach.

The elevator had pinged and more guards stepped off, just as Dean’s hand had grabbed yours and jerked you through the door to the stairwell, as he threw over his shoulder, “Things went south a hell of a lot faster than I’d planed.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away before they could dampen Dean’s shirt. His hands rubbed calming circles in your back, as if he knew the howling of the wind bothered you. Honestly, you couldn’t remember if you’d ever confided that in him. Not that it mattered. The circumstances were enough to drive most people to blubbering. You were just an analyst. You didn’t need this shit.

He’d apologized after he’d dragged you back through the garage and shoved you into the passenger seat of an unknown car. He hadn’t looked relieved by whatever he’d found in his search, jaw clenched as he’d weaved through the sparse traffic. He’d dropped the car at another parking garage, ushering you toward an unfamiliar safe house a few blocks away. But right before he’d stepped out onto the street, he’d paused, dragging you back behind his larger frame. You’d chanced a glance around him to see a homeless man lounging against the front stoop of the non-descript building.

“What’s wrong?” you’d whispered.

“I’ve seen him before.” He’d nodded toward the homeless man. “All the way across town. Earlier tonight. God _damn_ it, I fucking _knew_ it! Those bastards are having me tailed, the fuckers.”

“Who?”

He’d ignored the question, turning you back into the side street and guiding you into an alley. As you’d walked through a series of winding streets, you’d shivered against the wind. He’d noticed.

“Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry. Just a few minutes more, okay?”

You’d nodded, hunkering down against the wind, arms crossed firmly over your chest. Stepping inside the dilapidated building in which you now found yourself had been a relief. Despite the shivers wracking your body, both from nerves and the chill, you’d felt instantly better.

Dean had gone still. You’d glanced up to find his brow furrowed, eyes scanning over the empty, cavernous first floor.

You’d chanced a timid question. “What is it?”

“They even cleared _this_ place out. Must’ve been planning this shit far longer than I realized. Only one person besides me and Ro are supposed to know this place exists.” His eyes had found yours. “I’m so fucking _sorry_.”

You hadn’t had the courage to ask for what, exactly. Not with the obvious anxiety radiating off him. He’d checked through the first level, you clinging to his side, and decided the two of you would be safe for the rest of the night at least. If they’d cleared it out, they’d assume Dean would be smart enough to get the fuck out as soon as he realized the location had been compromised. When he’d settled against the wall and opened his arms, you’d fallen into them almost without thought.

You were in it now, for better or worse. At least you felt comfortable in his arms. Safe. Protected. Your lids were heavy, and the warmth radiating off him lulled you toward sleep. It had been hours since you’d dragged yourself out of bed and back to the office. You needed to rest or you would be dead on your feet.

Dean shifted, stretching his legs out before him. You wondered how long it had been since he’d slept. Thinking back over the last few days, you tried to calculate the hours. It was now sometime in the wee hours of Tuesday morning. Last you’d seen him had been Thursday. He’d been engrossed in a mission, barely acknowledging you as he’d passed, decked out in proper reconnaissance gear. That was the night Roman had gone into blackout status, you realized.

You’d noticed Dean getting worked up over Roman’s absence, had remarked on it to Becky. In all honesty, it had been hard to miss. What with Dean’s outburst echoing through the office floor as he stormed from Shane’s office. You had said something about maybe approaching Dean, asking what was bothering him. Another agent, Styles, had overheard, and advised against it.

When you’d attempted to approach Dean later that day, as he shuffled through paperwork huffing and grumbling to himself, Styles had caught your eye and shook his head. Dean had glanced up, and you’d lost your nerve, mumbling a goodbye and scurrying home. The next day, you’d been called into HR and ‘advised’ to take a week’s leave. To “alleviate the strain of the job.”

Your eyes snapped up to Dean’s face. He was mulling over something, eyes staring a hole in the opposite wall. He probably hadn’t slept for days. Not least of all because no one else seemed to believe Roman to be in any danger. It wouldn’t be the first time the man had disappeared for days at a time. He had a habit of immersing himself in his missions. Usually Dean was fine during those times. You wondered if maybe they had a system of letting each other know they were okay. Roman must not have checked in for far too long, for Dean to be so adamant that something was wrong.

Squeezing your arms around his waist brought his gaze flicking down to yours. “What’s wrong, darlin’? You still cold? You should try and sleep.”

He was obviously distracted. You hated seeing him like this. Nothing like his usual composure. While he always seemed a bit hyper, prone to bouncing in place or cracking his neck like he might rip his own head from his shoulders, he’d always seemed focused. As if he just had an excess of energy he needed to burn off. But now he looked to be trapped in his own head, thinking too hard, unable to settle and rest. Regain his strength.

You managed to find your voice. “I think you need it more than I do.”

“What? Sleep? Nah, I’m good. I can go a bit longer.”

“You don’t have to, though.”

“Yeah, I do. _I_ dragged you into this mess. My responsibility to keep you safe now.”

You hugged him tighter. “You can’t do that if you’re a zombie. How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

He paused to think about that. “Maybe Friday. I’m not sure. Doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ matter,” you pressed. “I don’t want you running yourself into the ground. Not for me.”

“I sought you out. My responsibility.”

“Alright, even if you did bring a shit-storm down on my head, I could’ve said no in the garage. You’d’ve found some other way. Like you always do. I stepped into it willingly, whether you can acknowledge that or not.”

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “Darlin’, you don’t even know the half of it.”

“I know that you need to sleep.”

He shook his head. “If you knew everything, you wouldn’t be so accommodating.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you could say to convince him to stop being so stubborn. Usually only Roman could get through to him when he got like this. You steeled yourself and took a chance. “Roman would knock his head against yours and force you into bed.”

Dean stilled, which was unnerving for someone in constant motion. His throat bobbed and he looked away, guilt clear in his expression.

You swallowed, voice barely a squeak. “What happened? Roman’s okay, isn’t he?”

Dean’s eyes clenched shut. “I don’t know.”

You’d never heard his voice so quiet before, so tortured. Your fingers gripped into his back, face turning into his throat as tears gathered again. You sniffled, hastily blinking the wetness away.

“Ssh, darlin’. It’ll be okay.” His hand stroked down your hair. “Get some sleep. We’ll figure this out in the morning. Get you back home in a warm bed where you belong.”

Curled against his chest, you let your eyes slip closed. Unease burning hot in your gut. Concern flushing your checks. There was no way you could sleep now. Roman could be captured, hurt, dead. Dean hadn’t slept in days. You might be just an analyst, but you weren’t an asshole. So, you forced your breathing to even out, pretended to be asleep. Tried to come up with a plan.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean’s chest shuddered. “ _Fuck_ ,” he growled, voice like gravel, and reached up to wipe a hand over his face. He snuffed and blew out a harsh breath that tingled over your hair and down your neck. His arms tightened around you, and his cheek nuzzled against your temple.

Your face was still turned into his neck. When you opened your eyes, you could _see_ the strain in his muscles. All you wanted was to wipe that away. Remind him that he wasn’t alone. That he could lean on you, too. Without much thought, you pressed your lips gently against his throat. His pulse was heightened anyway from anxiety, but as you lingered you felt it kick up higher.

Dean had gone still at the first touch of your lips, as if he didn’t know how to react. You let your tongue tease out. He jerked. But his fingers curled into the back of your head as his own fell against the wall, exposing more of his throat to you.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned. “What kinda dream you having?”

You nipped against his pulse, now erratic, and flushed at your own audacity. But his fingers curled a little deeper, his jaw clenching as his throat bobbed.

“Christ, Ambrose,” he growled. “Fuck’s wrong with you? Push her away.”

He shifted to do just that.

“No,” you protested, but your voice came out husky with disuse. Groggy.

“Just a dream, darlin’,” he soothed. “You’re okay.”

You pressed your face deeper into his neck, arms gripping so he couldn’t move you. “If this is a dream, I don’t wanna wake up.”

He stilled again, his chin shifting so you knew he was looking down at you. His throat bobbed again, his voice hoarse. “You awake, darlin’?”

You nodded, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Terrified you’d see rejection. Pity.

“So, that was on purpose?”

You clenched your eyes shut, nodding again.

“ _Shit_.”

You felt him shift again and clung to him. But he merely reached up to wipe his hand over his face again, and flopped back against the bricks. His other palm settled once more on the back of your head.

“Felt good,” he croaked. “Too good.”

A blush consumed your neck, even though that had been your goal. You couldn’t help but ask, “Too good?”

“You’re distracting, darlin’.” He sighed, cheeks puffing with the force. “Need to focus on getting us out of this mess.”

“You said it would keep ‘til morning.” You felt brave enough to glance up at him. “Or was that a lie to help me relax?”

He looked worse than worn, eyes even more bloodshot, brow furrowed, expression miserable. “I meant that. It’s just…with Ro MIA and these bastards breathing down my neck, I can’t indulge my fantasies. No matter how long I might’ve had ‘em. Or how amazing it would be.”

“Fantasies?” you squeaked.

His eyes clenched shut. “Fuck. Ignore me.” He tried for a grin that looked more like a grimace. “Haven’t slept, remember? Gonna be talking crazy.”

You straightened, feeling bolder. “Then, let me help you relax.”

His jaw tightened. “Darlin’…”

“Ssh,” you hushed him, slipping your hands around to smooth over his chest. “Let me help.”

He groaned, hands grasping yours but not pushing them away. “Not right. Ro’s in trouble, I can feel it. I gotta help him.”

If he was thinking about you, then he wouldn’t be thinking about all the horrible things that might be happening to Roman. And neither would you.

“Is there anything we can do tonight?”

He slumped, shaking his head.

“Then you need to sleep. Relax. You won’t be any good to Ro, or me, if you don’t rest.”

He waved a hand by his temple. “Too much happening. Can’t shut it off. Everything’s bouncing around in my skull.”

You pressed a quick kiss to nose. “Then let me distract you. For just a little while.”

He looked tortured. “Don’t wanna use you like that, darlin’. You deserve far better than that.”

Leaning your forehead against his, you whispered, “You wouldn’t be using me. You think you’re the only one who’s had fantasies?”

His eyes fluttered closed. “Can’t say shit like that. Gonna make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Like what?”

“Kiss you. Touch you. Hell, might even pin you against this wall.”

“Well, if you did that, _I_ certainly wouldn’t regret any of it.”

He groaned, louder and longer than before.

“Do you regret me kissing your throat?”

He shook his head.

You pressed another gentle kiss, this time to the hollow between his collarbones. “Do you regret that?”

Another shake.

“Then, please, let me help. Let me take your mind off things you can’t control. At least not right now.”

He swallowed, dragging his eyes open to find yours. “Just for a little while?”

You nodded. “And I’ll stop whenever you ask. No matter how much I want to make up for lost time, to play out a few fantasies of my own.”

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re dangerous,” he murmured, voice gone to gravel again, as he cupped the back of your head and guided you down to kiss him.

He met you partway, his mouth desperate, body tense. Your fingers dug into his chest and you arched against him as best you could. One hand twined in your hair, the other sliding up your spine, he pulled you flush against his chest. Kissing him with abandon, you reveled in the thumping beat of his heart under your hand.

You broke away to gasp a breath and rearrange yourself on his lap. As you moved to straddle his hips, he shifted, and your leg ended up slipping between his. His hand dragged down your spine and pulled your hips forward. You ground against his thigh and sucked in a breath at the warmth that burst through you.

Your hands grabbed his head and yanked his mouth back to yours. You rolled your hips over his thigh. His teeth nipped your lower lip before his tongue slipped inside to taste you. Fingers carding through his hair, you tangled your tongue with his. Unrepentant when he moaned into your mouth.

He sat back, panting, eyes half-lidded. Elated, you smiled, drawing an answering grin from him. It was tired but it still lit up his face for the first time since the two of you had escaped the office. Your lips found his collarbone and latched on. He deserved every bit of respite you could give him. Teasing your teeth across his flushed skin, you rocked your hips against his thigh again. His hips answered with a buck of their own, dragging his arousal against your thigh.

Your hand slipped down his chest toward his belt, but he caught it and raised it to plant a sloppy kiss on the inside of your wrist. His mouth trailed up your arm, his beard tickling the sensitive skin, forcing a giggle from you.

“Love the sound of your laugh,” he muttered, nipping your shoulder and burying his face against your throat.

“Same,” you gasped, as his teeth nibbled, as his tongue laved.

“Always wondered what you tasted like. Since that day I ran into you on the elliptical.”

You buried your face in his shoulder. “Oh my god, I was so embarrassed. Sweaty and disgusting. Hair all messy.”

“Flushed and disheveled,” he corrected, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Made me wonder what you’d look like after I wrung a few orgasms outta ya.”

Your breath stuttered, as you pulled back to gape at him, arousal drumming through you.

He grinned again, wide and devilish. “Kinda like that. More disheveled though.”

You smacked a palm down on his chest. “You’re _incorrigible_.”

His dimples appeared with a vengeance for the first time that night. “I’d like to be _inside_ you.”

Your thighs clenched around his. Stunned for only a moment, you dragged your nails down his chest toward his belt buckle. He grunted, lids fluttering.

“Damn, darlin’, gonna make me ruin my jeans, you do that again.”

“Then we should get them off. Sooner the better.”

He caught your hands, lifting them back to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “None of that, darlin’, pants stay on.”

“But you just said….” You blushed, unable to finish your sentence, suddenly self-conscious.

“Said ‘I’d _like_ to be.’ But I’d also like to lay you out on a bed, proper and shit.” He waved at the empty, derelict room. “Deserve better than _this_ being the backdrop our first time.”

“I don’t mind,” you mumbled.

He chuckled. “I do. I’ve fucked up enough already. Gonna do it right.” His dimples flashed again. “Gonna make you come so hard you see stars.”

You blushed harder, somehow managing to find your voice as you gestured at the window. “I can see stars right there.” You barely flinched when the wind buckled the frame, glass pane rattling.

He hummed low in his throat, cradling your hips and rocking them against him. “I mean the kind that burst behind your eyes.”

“If they’re _behind_ my eyes, how am I supposed to _see_ them?” you teased.

He pecked a kiss to your lips. “You’ll see.”

The promise in his words made your thighs clench again. He grinned and leaned in to kiss you, long and languid. Tongue and teeth and lips unhurried as they explored.

When he finally pulled back, you were more breathless than with any of the others.

“Can’t wait,” you panted.

“Me either.”

You dropped your forehead back to his chest, arms slipping around his waist. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers slipping through your hair.

After a minute of the wind sporadically rattling the window, you asked, “How did you manage for so long? If you’ve wanted me this whole time?”

“Kept myself busy,” he admitted. “Seth’s betrayal helped a lot on that front. I was so pissed at him, couldn’t really focus on anything else.”

You nodded your head, even as your eyes scrunched shut at _that_ reminder. You hadn’t been particularly close with any of them at the time, but you’d worked with them more than once or twice. You’d cared about them, wanted them to be safe. It had hurt when Rollins had turned Judas. Mostly because Dean and Roman almost hadn’t made it out alive.

The Authority had wanted to send a message. Specifically through Dean and Roman’s suffering. They’d been led into an ambush and left to die. If not for an anonymous tip to Emergency Services, they probably would have. Their backs flayed open. Bodies more bruised than not. Left near naked under a beating sun. Roman, despite his seemingly boundless constitution, had taken longer to heal. Though, part of you still thought Dean had only ‘healed’ faster because he’d ignored the doctors’ advice in lieu of finding and murdering Rollins.

Both Roman and Dean still carried the scars from that horrid night. Three years had faded most but the worst to pale lines, but something like that stayed with a person. If it still ate at you, you could only imagine what it did to him. Absently, you found your fingers brushing over the nasty scar that traced across Dean’s shoulder and bicep. So pronounced you could feel it through the material of his shirt.

“You okay, darlin’?”

You nodded, emotion clogging your throat.

The first time you’d happened to see it had been a shock. He’d come swaggering into the office in a tank top and jeans, teasingly flexing his arms when he’d caught you staring at them. It had looked like he’d lost a fight with barbed wire. You still shuddered at the thought of the pain he and Roman had experienced that night. They’d never talked about the ordeal with anyone. Outside of the mandated shrink sessions for “proper decompression of the incident.”

Dean, per usual, had told the shrink to stick it and refused to go back after the first session. Shane had threatened him with a blacklisting in the reconnaissance community if he refused to get cleared. So, Roman had stepped in and promised Shane he’d get Dean to go. Even going so far as accompanying Dean to the next session. Which had become Dean’s last. The shrink signing off after less than an hour. And taking a large chunk of his yearly personal leave right after. Everyone whispered, thanks mostly to Carmella’s gossiping, that Roman had threatened the shrink, but the shrink swore up, down, and sideways that Roman had done nothing of the sort.

That only made you suspect that _Dean_ had threatened the shrink, but with something _other_ than physical harm. Retaining Roman as a backup physical threat if needed. Dean had settled back into missions with a renewed focus. Most of his time devoted to tracking Rollins down and ambushing him whenever possible. Which meant Roman had started working double time tracking Dean to make sure he didn’t end up flayed in a ditch again.

You assumed the two of them had discussed that night between themselves. Since Dean had slowly calmed in his fervor to find and destroy Rollins. Had shifted his focus to undermining The Authority whenever possible. Last you’d heard, Rollins wasn’t even with them anymore, had left on pretty bad terms, which had made him vulnerable for months. Yet Dean hadn’t bothered to track him down and greet him with a fist to his smarmy face. Like he’d always promised if Rollins ever left the “coddling safety of mommy and daddy.”

“Why haven’t you found Rollins yet?” you found yourself asking. Only to curse yourself once the words were out.

Dean tensed, his fingers curling into your back and scalp. You felt him swallow, sure he was going to shut down or deflect, only to surprise you when he mumbled, “Something more important always cropped up.”

“More important than the man who tried to kill you?”

“Family’s always more important.” His body had tensed again. His mind no doubt slipping back into that dangerous ‘what if’ mode.

You squeezed his waist, turning your face to peck a kiss to his collarbone. “We’ll find him. Ro’s strong. He won’t give in before we get to him.”

His body loosening, Dean sighed. “Thanks, darlin’.” He pecked your temple, hand rubbing up and down your spine.

 

──────────────────────────────

 

When your eyes fluttered open, you weren’t sure exactly when you’d dozed off or how long you’d slept, but the pre-dawn light was filtering through the windows. Dean’s arms were clenched around you, and he was shifting to put you between him and the wall.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Ambrose,” a somewhat nasally voice snapped. “If I wanted to hurt her, I already would’ve.”

You recognized that voice. What the hell was _Rollins_ doing here? You hadn’t seen him—aside from grainy security footage—since he’d left Roman and Dean for dead.

Dean growled, the sound vibrating through you.

“Fine,” Rollins grumbled. “I see you haven’t matured. Still acting like a savage.”

“Take another step,” Dean warned, “and I’ll _show_ you savage.”

Rollins grunted a derisive laugh. “Learning from The Big Dog?”

“You don’t get to talk about him,” Dean all but snarled.

“I can talk about whoever I damn well please. Besides, my visit would be pointless if I’m not allowed to talk about him.”

Dean stiffened. “What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Rollins cackled. “You know _damn_ well what that means. You wouldn’t be huddled down in this shithole if you didn’t. They pinched Roman and now they’re gunning for you. Since they couldn’t get me.”

Your arms cinched around Dean’s waist. He glanced down at you, meeting your worried gaze.

“It’s okay, darlin’. I won’t let him touch you.”

You shook your head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” You clenched your jaw and turned to Rollins, mustering your best glare. “What happened to Roman?”

He smirked at you. “I see you’re still as sassy as ever.”

“Answer the question, Rollins,” Dean growled.

Rollins’ smirk didn’t falter. “Like I said, he got pinched.”

“How?”

“Because he did what he always does,” Rollins snarked. “He went all in on that ‘One Versus All’ shit. Didn’t have an out when he needed it.” He leveled Dean with a self-satisfied look. “Didn’t trust his _brother_ to be his backup.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “And whose fucking fault is that?”

“Oh, I accepted my share of the responsibility a long time ago, brotha. But damned if you ever will. _Maybe_ if you’d paid a bit more attention to _his_ needs instead of flying off the damn handle every ten fucking seconds, he’d have reached out when he started getting in over his head.”

Dean’s lip raised in a silent snarl. “You’re _not_ my brother. You’re nothing but a selfish piece of shit.”

Rollins snorted. “Of _course_ you hang on the unimportant part, but then I’m not the least bit surprised.”

“How dare you?” you snapped, glaring daggers. “You betrayed your own brothers. Your _family_. That’s _always_ going to be important. How can he trust you, after what you did?”

“Damn, sweetheart,” Rollins drawled. “That’s a new look. Not at all how it used to be. Those little furtive glances my way when I walked past.”

A blush stained your cheeks, and Dean was on his feet so fast you barely saw him move. The speed took Rollins by surprise as well. Dean shoved him back against the wall, growling through clenched teeth, “If you got info, then spill and get gone. You’re not welcome here.”

Rollins swallowed, glancing between the two of you. “I…didn’t realize it was like that. Between you two.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t _matter_ what it’s like between us. You treat her with respect regardless. But of course _you_ don’t understand that. Not the least bit surprising either.”

Rollins’ jaw clenched, his eyes hardening. He shoved Dean’s hands off his jacket collar. “I’m here for Roman. I thought you cared enough about him to leave petty shit in the past.”

Dean’s glare grew incredulous. “‘Petty shit’? Killing brothers is _petty_ shit now?”

“That’s not….” Rollins groaned. “Do you want to know what I know, or not?”

“Believe I was pretty damn clear ten fucking seconds ago.”

You stepped up beside Dean, slipping your hand in his. He gave you a squeeze. Even if his eyes remained glued on Rollins.

Rollins glanced down at your hands, but wisely decided not to comment. “I know who’s holding Roman, and where, and when they’re planning on moving him.”

“How?” you asked, tentative.

“Been working the group for a while, got ‘friends’ inside.”

“Which group?” Dean demanded.

“Call themselves The League of Nations. I guess for the irony.”

Suspicion overtook Dean’s face. “They’re believed to be an offshoot of The Authority.”

Rollins perked. “Yeah. You know of ‘em, then?”

“I know every mission Roman’s working.” Dean’s tone and expression were insinuating.

Rollins seemed to understand the implication, even if you didn’t. “I know…. Look, it was shitty of me to imply you didn’t.”

“Imply I don’t watch his back just as much as he watches mine, you mean?” Dean asked with obvious disdain.

“You kind of trained me to be defensive around you,” Seth snipped. “Hurt you before you can hurt me.”

“Hmm, if only _I’d_ thought of that three years ago.”

“God damn it, Dean! Like you didn’t get plenty of revenge. All the shit you did should’ve convinced me never to trust you again.”

“What about that ‘leaving petty shit in the past’ attitude?”

“You’re going to make this as difficult as possible, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?”

Before Rollins could answer what had clearly been a rhetorical question, you asked, “How do you know where Roman is?”

He snapped his mouth shut with a huff.

“Yeah,” Dean said, nodding. “How the fuck do _you_ know where he is when _I_ don’t?”

Rollins reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Ro and I…have been teaming up lately. Pooling our resources. When we realized we had a common enemy.”

Dean stilled. Your fingers squeezed his hand.

“I know he never told you,” Rollins began.

“Why?” Dean snapped.

“I’d guess so you wouldn’t follow him and come busting down my door the second you knew where I was.”

“No,” Dean growled. “Why did he trust _you_?”

Rollins shrugged. “That’s something you’ll have to ask him, man.”

“Then why do _you_ think he trusted you?” Dean pressed, seemingly desperate to know.

Rollins looked stumped for a second. “I honestly don’t know. It just kinda…happened. Ran into each other during a firefight, literally, and decided we were each other’s best chance at survival.”

“Before or after?” Dean demanded.

“Before or after what?”

“You _know_ what,” Dean nearly snarled, snapping his teeth.

Rollins drew back. “After. This was all rather recent. We teamed up because this ‘League of Nations’ is the best chance we got at crippling The Authority right now.”

Dean stared at Rollins for a concerning amount of time. Rollins, for all his faults, managed to stare right back, absent any heat or resentment. If anything, he seemed concerned. Though, for his own safety or Roman’s, you couldn’t be sure. Your hands cupped Dean’s, your thumbs running over the back of it in soothing patterns.

Finally, Dean stretched, cracking his spine and rolling the tension from his shoulders. “This info better pan out, or I’ll beat your ass, _brotha_.”

 

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“Do you really think we can trust him?” you asked, your fingers idly tracing over Dean’s chest. You were sure Dean was reticent of working with Seth after the betrayal, but Dean seemed more accepting of a tenuous partnership than you’d expected.

You felt him shift to look down at you from where he’d been staring at the ceiling. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

You snorted, giving him a chiding look. “Liar. You’d throw yourself head first at Satan if it meant protecting Roman. I seem to recall a murderous creep in a black sheep mask who nearly killed you. And Roman. More than once.”

He chuckled, but then grew serious. “I meant, _you_ wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I wouldn’t risk your safety like that.”

Your throat tightened again, nails curling into the fabric of his shirt.

His hand rubbed your back. “You okay?”

“Just overwhelmed. With everything. But especially your concern.”

“What? You think you don’t deserve it or something?”

His tone was light, teasing, like he couldn’t fathom you not recognizing your own self-worth. The sentiment stabbed straight into your heart. Wetness prickled your eyes. Dean shifted against the headboard, cupping your chin so you’d look up at him.

“Darlin’?”

You swallowed, forced the words out. “I mean, I’m just an analyst. I don’t put my life on the line every day like you and Ro. And even Rollins. I’m…replaceable.”

Dean’s jaw dropped open as he stared at you. Then, it snapped shut and he dragged you against his chest. “Don’t you ever say utter bullshit like that again,” he all but snarled. “You’re _not_ replaceable. Especially not to me.”

A few tears slipped free. Despite how tightly you clenched your eyes. Your arms curled around him. You wanted to thank him, tell him you felt the same about him. But your throat was too tight. If you opened your mouth, you would start sobbing. So you hugged him as fiercely as you could and hoped he would understand how you felt without words.

His hand cupped the back of your head, holding it to his chest as he leaned back against the headboard. He hushed you and pressed a kiss to your hair. Giving you the time to pull yourself together. The last few hours had been torture for all three of you. Cooped up in a seedy motel room, with nothing to do but wait. With Seth’s intel having panned out, you’d managed to begin and finish preparations for Roman’s extraction. Now came the hard part of waiting until the trap could be sprung. With the least amount of resistance.

Seth had paced the length of the room so many times that Dean had growled it was making him dizzy. So, Seth had huffed and grabbed his jacket, muttering something about blowing off some steam with a long walk. After he’d been gone for a few minutes, Dean had started mumbling and drumming on his collarbone, biting his nails and shaking his leg.

You’d taken his hand and pulled him from his seat into the bed next to you. With your head on his chest, your body tucked against his, he had stopped mumbling. Even if he’d kept drumming his thumb against his collarbone.

Now he felt relaxed, while you felt an itch under your skin, yearning to be scratched by…something. You glanced up at Dean’s face. He was back to staring at the ceiling. You could practically see the thoughts speeding through his head. The ‘what if’s. You dropped a gentle kiss to his chest, bringing his eyes flicking down to yours.

“Darlin’?” he queried, brow furrowed with concern.

You pushed up so you were leaning over him, dropping another gentle kiss to his nose. Your eyes met his and realization dawned with a longing groan. You pressed a questing kiss to his lips. His fingers carded through your hair, palm cupping your cheek.

“So damn dangerous,” he mumbled, pulling you back down to kiss him again. Far more thoroughly.

Your hands splayed out over his chest as you raised your hips to swing a leg over him. Straddling his waist, you pressed your chest against his and rolled your hips. His breath stuttered, his arm wrapping around your waist to guide your movements. The air rushed from you when he rocked his hips up to meet you.

Breaking away to gasp a steadying breath, you shifted your hips lower, rolling against his growing arousal. His hands landed on your hips, his eyes clenched shut as he panted beneath you. Delighted with his reaction, you straightened your arms and swiveled your hips. His fingers gripped tighter, lids prying open to watch you above him. But when you tried to repeat the movement, he held you still.

Your usual insecurity slammed through you, screaming that he didn’t actually want you, didn’t find you sexually attractive. “What’s wrong?” you squeaked.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Seem to recall saying I wanted to do this right. Lay you out on a proper bed.”

Relief burst through you, chasing those unwelcome and absurd fears from your head. “This _is_ a bed,” you teased.

He chuckled. “Darlin’, I was thinking a little nicer. One _without_ the threat of fleas.”

“Like you care about fleas,” you quipped, crossing your arms over his chest and leaning down to kiss his chin.

“Not for myself. But you deserve nothing but good shit.”

“Wow. ‘Good shit’? Such a gentleman.”

“Only for you.”

He moved to playfully peck a kiss to your temple, but you caught his mouth with yours. Groaning again, he melted under you. You let your fingers slip into his hair, nails dragging against his scalp. He hummed.

“Jeans are in jeopardy, darlin’,” he murmured against your mouth. “And I only got the one pair.”

“That mean you’ll have to rescue Ro in a pair of Seth’s skinny jeans if I keep at it?”

He leveled you with a dark look. “I’d rather go naked.”

You smirked, lowering your lids. “I’d be good with that.”

“Then maybe I will anyway,” he feigned offense. “Never know, might be just the distraction we need.”

Your laugh bubbled out of you. “It _would_ be a sight. But then it would probably just distract Seth and Ro, and that wouldn’t be very helpful.”

“I do have a very nice ass, if I do say so myself.”

You hummed your agreement, slipping one hand down to grab said ass. His chest rumbled against yours, as he pulled your mouth back to his. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, and you opened to him. Tongues tangling, you rolled your hips. Dean reached down, palm sliding over your ass and rocking you against him.

The door swung open. You jerked up to find Seth wide-eyed and frozen in the doorway. Your fingers fell away from Dean’s belt, half-unbuckled. Seth’s transition from surprised to amused was near instantaneous. His eyebrow quirked up, his mouth pulling into a smirk.

“I leave for thirty minutes and this is what you two get up to?”

Growling in frustration, Dean gripped your hips and lifted you. After depositing you on the bed, he shoved to his feet and mumbled something about excusing himself to the bathroom.

“I don’t think a bathroom break is what you need, man,” Seth called after him.

As the door clicked shut with another growl, Seth turned his appraising gaze on you, that smirk widening when he saw your blush. Your flush deepened and you found yourself tripping over all the words you wanted to say, blustering without any real goal. You just wished he would stop looking at you like _that_. His arms crossed over his chest, his head tilting back and forth in glee.

“Like you have any right to judge,” you finally managed to snap.

He gave a careless shrug. “Who said I was judging?”

“The entirety of your _face_. That smarmy little smirk you seem to love so damn much.”

He lifted his hands in a sign of placation, moving far enough into the room to shut the door. “Maybe I just think the timing is a little inconvenient. What with Roman and all.”

Normally you would find yourself agreeing with such an explanation, but then he ruined it by not shutting up while he was ahead, as usual.

“I mean,” he gave another shrug, “maybe get Roman to safety and find your own private room before you fuck like rabbits?”

Irritation flashed through you, igniting your fury. “Like you have any right to an opinion after what _you_ did to Roman,” you huffed. “Might have been three years ago, but they still carry that shit with them every _day_.”

Seth’s eyes widened again, all amusement wiped from his face. He dropped into the chair across from the bed. His tone subdued, he muttered, “I regret that night every day, too.” His gaze hesitantly found yours. “I fucked up. I own that. And I’m trying to make up for it.”

“You know,” Dean drawled from the bathroom doorway. “An actual _apology_ would go leagues toward that end. But when have you been able to _admit_ your mistakes?”

“I just _did_ ,” Seth growled. “I’m helping you find Roman because it’s partly _my_ fault he was taken. _I_ wasn’t there either, when he needed help.”

“Yeah, that always was your thing. Helping when it _suited_ you. Mr. Architect.”

Seth bristled. “Not just when it suits me. Putting my life on the line for you and Roman right now is heat I don’t need. Roman going missing has been the furthest thing from suiting me that it could be. Worst thing that _could_ have happened, actually.”

“Oh,” Dean drawled. “We’re so lucky to have you _inconveniencing_ yourself for us.”

“Get fucked, Ambrose.”

“I was _trying_ to,” he snapped, and heat flushed your face. “Until you blundered in and _inconvenienced_ me.”

“Yeah?” Seth sneered. “Well consider it payback for all the fucking times you and Reigns troubled me with your petty fucking fights! Snapping at one another like I was something to be ripped apart between you!”

“You didn’t have to be there if you didn’t want to be!”

“Why the _fuck_ do you think I left?!” Seth was standing now, his face inches from Dean’s, teeth bared. His voice dropped to a dangerously low pitch. “Why the fuck do you think I ripped you open and left you bleeding?”

Dean’s voice dropped to match. “Because you’re a sadistic piece of shit. You _wanted_ to hurt us when you _could_ have just walked away.”

Seth snorted. “You wouldn’t have just let me go.”

“You bet your fucking ass I would have, _if_ you’d just fucking _asked_ me to.”

Seth barked a derisive laugh. “You hounded me for a fucking _year_. Wasn’t until Wyatt showed back up to taunt you that you went chasing after the next thing to catch your pathetic excuse for an attention span.”

“I went after Wyatt because he was fucking with Roman. Because I cared more about protecting him than I did about hurting you. Which is exactly why my fist has yet to meet your face since you showed up this morning.”

“How fucking ironic. You _cared_ about Roman. If only you could’ve managed that when I was still there.”

“Maybe you should take the hint and realize Roman and I were never the problem.”

A growl ripped from Seth’s chest. “How fucking _dare_ you?!”

“How dare _I_?” Dean huffed a mirthless laugh. “ _You’re_ the one who left your _brothers_ for dead. Instead of just _talking_ to us.”

“You wouldn’t _listen_.”

“So obviously killing us is the answer.”

“You two would’ve _never_ reconciled if I hadn’t done what I did.”

“Oh, yeah, it was _definitely_ outta the goodness of that giant heart of yours. _Architected_ from the beginning to force Ro and me to make up. Slicing us open with every sharp thing you could get your hands on.”

“I put _hands_ on you, Ambrose.” Seth looked slightly chastened, but his anger was winning out, his defenses still high and razor-sharp. “I _never_ cut nor carved.”

“You might as well have.” Dean snapped his teeth, attempting to reign in his emotions. When he spoke again, his voice was tortured. “Whether it was you or Trips, it felt like you were taking that knife and shoving it right through my back, and right through my heart.”

Seth’s brow furrowed, his throat bobbing. The heat seemed to leave him. “I didn’t enjoy any of it. And I’m…I’m sorry that happened to you and Roman.” A faraway look clouded his eyes, but he shook it away. “Didn’t think he would take it so far.”

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes.

Seth’s defenses kicked back up. “He only said he wanted to send a message. Never said he planned on killing you.”

“Bodies make the best messages,” Dean quipped dryly. “The bodies of former brothers even more so.”

Seth glanced away, crossing his arms, obviously uncomfortable.

Dean’s head canted to the side, and he moved in for the kill. “Been wondering. If you could stomach his murdering us, what made you leave?”

Confusion furrowed Seth’s brow as he turned back to face Dean. “I _couldn’t_ stomach his murdering you guys. I did everything I could to dissuade him without earning my own spot strapped down next to you. You don’t remember?”

Dean quirked a sarcastic brow. “Must’ve missed it. What with all the slicing and dicing.”

Seth cleared his throat, a tinge of red coloring his cheeks. “Alright, stupid question. But honestly how do you think you guys actually survived that?”

Dean gave him a disbelieving look. “We very nearly didn’t. If not for that good Samaritan stumbling upon us….” Dean shrugged.

Seth shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you serious, Dean?” he snapped. “Who the fuck do you think _made_ that call?”

You sucked a breath, wondering how you’d never realized. Who else would have found them? The dumpsite hadn’t been a well-traveled area. Most frequented by the homeless and drifters. Both groups more likely to avoid the police at all costs for fear of being blamed.

Seth’s eyes flicked to you and he swept an arm in your direction. “Well, she gets it at least.” He shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Really, Dean? Neither you nor Roman ever pieced that together?”

Dean simply stared, somewhat dumbfounded, slowing shaking his head.

Seth scowled. “Of course not. Easier to just assume you’d lucked out. _Again_.”

His tone implied that hadn’t been the first time they’d failed to give him his dues for his contributions to their unit.

“Took your sweet ass time,” Dean grumbled, scarred shoulder twitching with what you read as remembered pain.

Seth rolled his eyes. “I had to wait ‘til it would be believable. No one would have stumbled upon you in the middle of the night.”

“Almost didn’t make it _through_ the night.”

Seth glanced away again. “The longer he tortured you, the better chance you had of making it until I could tip off 9-1-1.”

“Don’t know how he did it.” Dean’s eyes had glazed over, not seeing where they were fixed on the wall. “I couldn’t breathe without pain throbbing through my everything. But Ro…he managed to crawl over to me, grab my hand, _talk_. Kept me conscious, kept me from fading into the misery. Just letting it take me.” He gave his head a harsh shake. One that _had_ to have rattled his brain against his skull. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

The abrupt shift disoriented you and Seth both.

“What made you finally leave?” Dean supplied with another snap of his teeth.

Seth sighed. “I knew quite soon after my defection that it had been a mistake. But in for an inch, in for a mile, you know?”

“That’s…not the saying,” you said, unable to stop the words, even though you knew it was the mootest point ever.

“Whatever,” Seth huffed, but your interruption seemed to settle the tension that had remained between the two of them. “Penny, inch, doesn’t matter. The point is I had committed, and the work was pretty much the same as before, but I was making a shit ton more, and I hadn’t just burned that bridge but firebombed it into ash. So…I stayed, waiting for Trips to turn on me, like I knew he would. Eventually. I was actually relieved when it finally happened. Gave me the out I’d been praying for. Made me the good guy after so many years of being consigned to the opposite.”

“What’d you do to get Ro to trust you?” Dean asked, suspicious.

Seth looked confused. “I told you—”

Dean raised his hand. “You can say it was a coincidence all you want.” He motioned between them. “But we both know Ro wouldn’t have let it get past one and done unless you gave him a reason to trust you.”

Seth seemed to curl in on himself. Just enough for you to notice. “Gave him a tip that you were being set up,” he mumbled. “Back when you were investigating Heyman.”

Realization dawned with the slightest quirk of Dean’s brow. “That’s how Ro knew exactly where I was. Getting my ass handed to me by Heyman’s shockcollar.”

Seth scowled. “Let me guess. You chalked it up to luck.”

Dean’s mouth spilt into a lopsided grin.

Seth’s face softened, despite his exasperation. “You’re incorrigible.”

Dean’s grin spread wider, his eyes flicking over to yours, mischief dancing within them. You burst out laughing, confusing Seth once more. Until Dean playfully punched his shoulder and flopped back down on the bed, dragging you with him. Then, Seth appeared wistful, as if he was recalling far simpler times.

He awkwardly cleared his throat. “I can get another room.”

“Get your ass in that bed and sleep,” Dean growled without any real heat. “None of us will be any good to Ro if we don’t get some fucking rest.”

Seth settled in the other bed as you tucked yourself against Dean’s side. His hand cupped your head, his cheek nuzzling against your temple. His body truly relaxed for the first time since this shit-show began.

 

──────────────────────────────

 

Burrowing deeper into Dean’s side, you sighed. Eyes trained on his face, slack with sleep. Peaceful. You’d awoken half an hour ago, and still hadn’t built up the desire to wake him. Or Seth. Still sprawled out across the other bed on his stomach, snoring softly. There were still a few minutes before the alarm would sound and snap them to attention. Snap them back to the harsh reality of having to rescue their brother.

They deserved every second of rest they could steal. You’d seen that first hand with Dean these past two days, and you suspected Seth hadn’t fared much better. He’d passed out nearly as soon as his face hit the pillow. The guilt he’d been carrying for three years lessened by his argument with Dean. Seth hadn’t been forgiven yet, you could tell, but the outright hostility was gone.

The first beep of the alarm had two pairs of eyes popping open. Seth fairly bolted out of the bed, tossing the sheets off himself and moving for the bathroom like a man on a mission. He grabbed his duffle and clicked the door shut behind him. Dean merely stretched beside you, arm squeezing you against him. You dropped a light kiss on his jaw.

He hummed. “Careful, darlin’, I’m supposed to be mentally preparing.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

He pulled you atop him. “Like hell. You’re a major distraction.”

After a quick peck to your lips, he shifted out from under you, rolling to a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. You sat up behind him, pressing a lingering kiss to the scar across his shoulder. He reached back and cupped your head, fingers scratching against your scalp.

“Careful, darlin’,” you affected his gravelly voice. “Gonna make me ruin my jeans.”

He barked a laugh, playfully pushing your head away. Your eyes met his with a challenge, his lids lowering in response.

“Just wait ‘til I get you alone.”

The promise in his words sent heat straight to your core.

The bathroom door swung open, and Seth snorted in the doorway. “Wasn’t even five minutes this time.”

“Zip it,” you groused.

“Yeah,” Dean echoed. “For once in your measly life, shut it. Preferably permanently.”

Seth shot him a look, but it seemed suspiciously fond.

Dean pushed to his feet and grabbed his own duffle, placing it on the counter in the bathroom. He nodded toward the duffel as he came back to the bed. “Go ahead and get changed. Might be a little baggy in places, but it should do the trick.”

You did as he’d asked, riffling through the bag Seth had tossed him earlier in the evening. You found him changed and both he and Seth prepped with face paint and earpieces. Seth outfitted you with an earpiece of your own while Dean smeared face paint over your cheeks and forehead. You suspected he enjoyed the experience far more than you did. Seth checked the equipment twice before he and Dean bundled everything into their duffels and you all headed for your target. Surprisingly, you weren’t as nervous as you’d anticipated.

Once you were lying in the bushes outside a foreign warehouse, a duffel on each side of you, those nerves had come raging in with a vengeance. Peering through binoculars, you watched as Seth and Dean cut through the security fence about fifty feet below. Your breath came in shallow pants, what threatened to be a full-blown panic attack lingering just on the edges of your senses. Seth and Dean slipped through the fence, slinked across the yard, and disappeared inside the building. All you could do now was wait and listen and watch the yard.

Less than a minute later, a door opened across the yard. You whipped your binoculars up to find a guard beginning a round of the fence. Your eyes snapped back to the opening, just large enough to fit a full-grown man and thus large enough to be seen by someone passing three feet from it. Mostly because one edge was curled away from the pole to which it had once been attached.

You dug into one of the duffels, grabbing a handful of zip ties and heading for the opening. Hunkered down in the shadows. If the guard saw that opening, he’d alert the others, and Seth and Dean and Roman would all be trapped inside, surrounded by agitated enemies. Your hands were shaking as you wrapped the zip ties around the links and pole. It took you a few tries before you could feed the end, wrenching with desperate anxiety and all but diving headfirst into the bushes a few feet from the fence.

You had barely stopped rolling when the guard passed the opening without a second glance, his eyes trained in front of him. He was humming something low and lonely. Which only made your unease explode. You clapped a hand over your mouth and squeezed your eyes shut until he’d passed, his humming fading.

A crackle in your earpiece startled you, and you were sure it was loud enough that the guard would hear, but he simply kept walking, blithely. You huffed a sigh just as Seth’s voice came through. “We’re ready to return to the nest. Clear?”

You scanned the yard to make sure no new guards had appeared. “Give it a few seconds. A guard is finishing his round.” You watched as the guard threw open a door and pulled it closed behind him. With a final scan, you said, “Alright. All clear.”

You caught sight of them immediately. Pushing out through the same door they’d entered, Roman barely upright between them. You cringed at the sight, even from a distance. He looked half-delirious, heading lolling back and forth, steps more stumble than not. Shirt ripped and dangling from his waist, blood both dried and still gleaming smeared across his torso and face. Parts of his tattoo even looked distorted, though you hoped that was only a play of the low light.

You dropped the binoculars for a moment to regroup yourself, crawling forward to slice off the zip ties on the fence. A flash of movement in your peripheral caught your attention, had you jerking the binoculars back up.

“Oh my god,” you hissed into the microphone. “Behind you!”

But your warning had come too late. Seth cried out in agony as Styles threw his shoulder into the back of Seth’s recently healed knee. Without Seth supporting his left side, Roman dropped too, dragging Dean to his knees. Thanks to the inked arm slung around his shoulders.

Hands trembling, you ripped your knife through the last zip tie and shoved through the fence. Without much thought, your hand closed around a hefty rock and you were running for them. Seth kicked out at Styles, but he merely laughed and slammed his heel down to pin Seth’s knee to the concrete. Dean was reaching for his weapon, only to freeze when Styles raised his gun level with Dean’s head.

There was no way you would make it in time. Crying your rage, you planted your feet and chucked the rock as hard as you could at Styles’ head. It missed by a mile, knocking against the concrete with a dull thud. Styles watched it bounce, then turned amused eyes on you, but they narrowed as he recognized you. You were suddenly back in the office as he stared you down until you’d fled, abandoning your plan to confront Dean about his ravings on Roman.

Styles turned his gun on you, and you were frozen, deer in the damn headlights as your demise came barreling down on you. But then Dean was rising, fists flying, as he pummeled Styles, knocking him back a few steps. Seth grabbed Styles’ wrist, wrenching the gun from his grip and dragging him off balance. Styles tried to shrug Dean off, but he caught Styles’ other wrist and leveraged his arm out to the side. And then Roman was launching himself bodily at Styles. Spearing him right in the gut and tackling him to the ground.

Styles’ head cracked against the concrete. When Roman staggered back to his feet, Seth and Dean steadying him, Styles didn’t move. Before you could think, you were running for them again. You wanted nothing more than to launch yourself into Dean, much like Roman had done with Styles, but you knew this wasn’t over. You ducked under Seth’s other arm, draping it over your shoulders to help support his injured knee.

He looked down at you, utterly surprised. Swallowing and clearing his throat, he mumbled his thanks. Your arm snaked around his waist, fingers gripping Roman’s hip as the four of you limped for the fence. You only had so much time before the guard returned for another check and found Styles, dead or alive. Bile clawed at your throat but you fought it down. If he was dead, so be it. He would have killed you without a second thought. Despite your having saved his ass more than once.

“Shouldn’t we…do something…with him?” Roman asked between panting breaths.

“Not enough time,” Seth replied. “Can’t get caught inside the perimeter.”

“Where’s his backup?” you wondered aloud, eyes darting around for any sign of another ambush.

“Oh, you know Styles,” Dean grumbled, dropping his voice into a Southern accent. “‘Give me one, two, three guys. I’ll waste ‘em all. I’m AJ Styles. I beat up John Cena.’”

Seth shot him a look. “Sounds like someone _else_ I know.”

“Sounds like _three_ people _I_ know,” you said, eyeing your compatriots.

Seth looked affronted. Dean snickered. Roman managed a weak smile. Which gave you hope for his mental state after the obvious torture he’d been through. You squeezed his hip, and his eyes blearily found yours. The rest of the half-limping, half-stumbling march was silent.

Dean leaned Roman against the chain link and grabbed you in a blistering hug. Seth limped a step to keep his grip on Roman, who was teetering. Then, Dean kissed your head and pushed you toward the opening. You went without complaint. Roman came next, obviously still out of it, making you wonder just where he’d gotten the wherewithal to fuck Styles up so succinctly.

Especially when he fell straight into the bushes, groaning, as you turned to help guide Seth through the fence. It took you, Seth, and Dean—as well as a fair bit of grunting and maneuvering—to get Roman’s heavy frame back on his feet. Get him moving for the van stashed by the side of the road about half a mile away. The trek was more nerve-wracking than the extraction had been, as you were constantly glancing over your shoulder, straining your ears for the telltale sounds of pursuit.

When the three of you finally got Roman stashed in the back of the van, you breathed a sigh of relief. Seth sat beside Roman, the larger man’s head resting against Seth’s shoulder, as he fought slipping off into unconsciousness.

Under heavy lids, his eyes found yours again. “Aren’t you an analyst?”

His confusion was understandable. Analysts rarely went out in the field, and never into such dangerous situations. You nodded, watching him from the front passenger seat. Turned in your seat as Dean floored the van down the backroad.

Dean’s hand gripped yours, dragging it up to press against his lips. “And a hell of a lot more.”

 

──────────────────────────────

 

You hovered just inside the doorway, watching your three compatriots under siege of the company’s medics: Sami, Noam, and Alicia. Dean had wanted you to get checked over first. With your insistence, and Roman’s near faint, Dean had allowed your turn to wait until after Roman’s. Even though the medics had already obviously made their choice.

Once the blood had been cleaned away and his wounds tended, a few requiring stitches, Roman looked almost normal. The IV bag attached to his arm was no doubt largely why. Despite his exhaustion, he’d still put up a—rather futile—fight, attempting to dissuade Alicia from stitching him up.

“I’ve managed worse on a nine-hour flight,” he’d sworn. “With nothing but bandages and duct tape.”

Alicia’s mouth had pinched in a frown as she stared at him, unimpressed. She’d lifted her hand to her mouth, as if she was holding a radio and made a static-sounding hiss. “This is your captain speaking. Lie down and shut it.” She dropped her hand and leaned into Roman’s face. “Before I strap you down and dose you with more than just local antiesthetic.”

You’d been sure such terrible bedside manner would rile Roman. But he’d laid back and shut it, not saying another word until Alicia had stepped away and dropped her tools back to the mobile tray beside her. She’d patted his hip affectionately, making you wonder if she’d learned from prior experience to simply strong-arm Roman whenever he tried to evade proper treatment. A theory bolstered by the fact Roman seemed to hold no resentment once she had finished and moved on to cleaning his less pressing wounds.

After the medics had leveled Roman’s vitals and Alicia had subdued him for stitches, Dean had grabbed Sami and gestured at you. Noam having been wise enough to stay out of Dean’s reach. But you’d pushed a limping Seth forward to get his knee checked and iced. Dean had shot you a look. You’d turned your nose up, your arms crossed defiantly over your chest.

“Roman and Seth are far more worse for wear than I could ever be,” you’d scolded. “For throwing a rock that didn’t even come _close_ to hitting my target.”

Roman and Seth had both said they wouldn’t have minded waiting for you. You’d shot Seth a dirty look, Roman a chiding one, and harrumphed. Earning a laugh from Seth and a tired smile from Roman.

After Seth had been cleared with minimal swelling, you’d consented to a check as long as Dean sat his ass down to get checked too. He’d grumbled something unintelligible and sulked as Sami tended to his bruised and bloody knuckles. You’d hopped down and moved out of the way, having gotten cleared almost immediately.

Your lips twitched with a smile, as Dean grumbled at the medic unlucky enough to be tending to him, “I’ve sewn my own nipple back on before. I don’t need your coddling.”

“Maybe so,” Sami conceded. “But can you still feel it?”

Dean’s eyes snapped to yours, a mischievous grin slowly curling his mouth. “Guess we’ll just have to experiment and see.”

Your cheeks flushed, but your eyes were glued to his, your lip trapped between your teeth.

“Also,” Roman added, tapping his nose. “Broke this so bad his sense of smell’s basically shot.” He pointed at you. “Should take advantage of that as often as possible.”

Your entire face went red, as Seth sniggered and Dean turned his grin on Roman. Dean opened his mouth, only for it to drop into a frown as he watched Alicia check the sutures on one of the nastier gashes in Roman’s side. Dean’s mouth snapped shut with a click of his teeth.

“What’s wrong, Uce?” Roman asked, concerned.

Dean gave his head a shake. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“You know that only makes me worry about it more.”

Dean scrunched his eyes shut, digging his fingers into his lids in frustration. “Just…shit, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For doing this to you.” Dean waved a hand to encompass Roman’s injuries.

“I know I was out of it,” Roman said, brow furrowed. “But I don’t remember you being the one holding the blade.”

“Might as well have,” Dean muttered, and you heard Seth gasp a startled breath.

“Why?” Roman asked, even more confused than before, his eyes flicking between Seth and Dean.

“It’s not your fault,” Seth tried to interject.

Dean ignored him, staring at the floor. “I wasn’t there when you needed me. I know I’m not always all here.” He motioned to his own head. “But that’s no excuse for not being strong enough for you to lean on when you need it.”

A strangled sound burst from Seth’s throat. Low and pained and full of regret. Roman growled, struggling to sit up, his mouth hard.

“You’ll rip your stitches,” Alicia warned, trying to hold him down. Noam and Sami stepped in to help her.

Roman turned his vexed glare on them. The men quailed, raising their hands and backing away. After a silent glare-down, Alicia rolled her eyes and huffed, turning from him.

“I don’t wanna play this game anymore,” she snipped. “You rip ‘em and _he_ can put ‘em back in.” She flicked her wrist at Dean. Flipping her hair and waving at the door in a silent order, she left with Noam close on her heels, Sami trailing after.

“Let us know if you need us for anything else,” he said to you with a meaningful look and a convert head bob toward your compatriots. You nodded knowingly.

Roman maneuvered himself to a sitting position, swinging his legs down from the exam table. When he huffed a pained breath, both Seth and Dean moved for him. He held up his hands to ward them off. They paused, hovering close. Roman turned his patented parental glower on Dean, who swallowed and glanced back at his feet.

“I just—” Dean tried.

“Hush,” Roman interrupted, his voice firm but comforting. “ _None_ of this is your fault. Or yours,” he added for Seth. “I didn’t call in _either_ of you because I didn’t want to endanger you. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if one or both of you got pinched because of it.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” Dean said, a bit more strength imbuing his voice. “You could have died, you giant ass.”

“You know me, strong to the point of folly.” Roman chucked Dean’s shoulder. “I’m hardwired to protect, Dean. You’re my Uce, my _family_. Means I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Even really stupid shit.”

“Yeah, well, you’re _my_ family, too. So fucking same,” Dean said fiercely. “Gotta let me help. Even if you don’t think you need it.”

Seth looked pained, before he caught you watching him and schooled his features, remarking, “You two keep it up and I’ll get diabetes from all this sickeningly sweet shit.”

“You’d enjoy it,” said Roman.

Seth snorted. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you guys need to go back to ripping on each other.” A bit of that pained look resurfaced. “This shit is weird.”

Roman ruffled Seth’s hair, rumbling, “You missing The Shield Days something fierce, aren’t you, little brother?”

Seth, to your utter surprise, fairly preened under Roman’s affectionate touch. Before he caught himself again and pushed Roman’s hand away with a scoff. Dean made an odd sound in the back of his throat, as he stared at Seth. Who grew wary, jerking when Dean grabbed him around the back of his head.

Dean ignored the jolt, knocked his forehead against Seth’s. “Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to save Ro. I’ll forever be grateful.” Dean paused, mulling something over. “This isn’t forgiveness. But it’s a start. Brother.”

Seth’s jaw clenched, but then he relaxed against Dean’s touch. Sighing, Seth let his eyes slip closed. “Thanks…brother.”

Roman grabbed them both around the back of their necks and bumped his forehead against theirs. “I’m definitely grateful, but we can’t forget our ace.” He looked up at you, eyes misty. “Thanks, baby girl. I owe you.”

Your neck heated.

Dean turned, a proud smile splitting his face. “Chucking that rock like a damn champ, darlin’!”

“I didn’t even come close,” you mumbled, glancing at your feet.

“Yeah, but if it’d hit….” Seth grimaced. “Glad I’m on the track to forgiveness, sweetheart. Don’t ever want to find myself on the receiving end of your ire.”

Overcome, you lurched forward and wrapped your arms around all three, squeezing with all your might, tears prickling your eyes.

“See what I mean?” Seth grunted.

“Stop trying to ruin the moment,” Dean grumbled.

Shaking his head, Roman sighed and ruffled their hair.

You only gripped them all tighter.

 

──────────────────────────────

 

Your key slipped into the lock, the tumblers clicking open with what felt, at least to you, like a herald of what was to come. What the last thirty-odd hours had been leading up to. The door swung inward, revealing the living room of your apartment. Not that your apartment was anything but meager. Analysts’ salaries were nothing to brag about. Your home consisted mostly of a kitchen, bathroom, living room, and bedroom. The last being where you wanted to end up, and soon, with Dean.

You stepped inside, turning to find Dean hadn’t followed. He stood on the threshold, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes on the floor. You wondered if maybe he had more he needed to take care of. But with Styles having been neutralized and guards set on all your and Dean’s known addresses, you couldn’t think of anything that couldn’t wait until morning. Having axed the company’s mole, Dean had escorted you home because he’d wanted to, not because he’d had to. Which was why you were so confused he seemed reticent to follow you inside.

Dean glanced down the hallway, quipping, “Surprised Seth hasn’t come hobbling all the way after us.”

You snickered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Your door was wide open, and you were standing slightly to the side, but Dean hadn’t made a move to enter. As you waited awkwardly, you recalled how Seth had blustered after you back in the medic area. His irritated yelling following you as Dean pulled you from the room.

Dean had instigated it, asking, “Styles not having backup was pretty damn lucky, huh?” while waggling his eyebrows at Seth.

Seth had snorted at first. “Yeah, thankfully.”

Dean had grinned, as if Seth had stumbled right into his trap. “You mean you had nothing to do with it, Architect?”

Seth’s eyes had darkened. “You know what, Ambrose,” Seth had started. But Roman’s hand had landed on his shoulder and Dean had already been laughing and slipping through the door, his hand firmly clasped around yours.

You wanted to reach out and take his, but they were firmly tucked away, and you didn’t want to be presumptuous. He was exhausted. Maybe he just wanted to pass out, sleep for a year or two.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked. When he still hesitated, you hastily added, “We don’t have to do anything. We can just sleep.”

His mouth quirked at the edge. “Thanks for the offer, darlin’, but…I don’t wanna do anything that might make you uncomfortable.”

“I invited you inside. I wouldn’t have done that if I was uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, but still….” He shrugged.

You stared at him, stumped for a second. Finally, you blurted, “I’ve dry humped you twice now. With the explicit intention of getting you inside me. What do you think will make me uncomfortable?”

Once you realized exactly what you’d said, your ears went pink. He chuckled.

“It’s not anything _I_ might do,” he clarified. “Just that all the agents called in for this security detail tonight know that I took you home. If they don’t see me leave, they’re going to assume things. The whole company, analysts and all, will know by tomorrow morning.”

“Will it make _you_ uncomfortable if they know you spent the night?”

“’Course not.” His gaze trailed heatedly over your form. “Been waiting long enough, nothing would stop me but you telling me to.”

“Oh.” Warmth pooled in the pit of your stomach; your eyes caught his. “Well, I have the rest of the week off, so screw ‘em.”

When he still didn’t move, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. Lifting his hand from his pocket and linking your fingers with his. His thumb stroked your palm.

“I seem to recall a promise about stars,” you murmured.

He grinned, dimples on full display, and let you lead him inside. You didn’t make it past your couch before you were turning and catching his mouth with yours. Teeth nipping his lower lip. He hummed, chest vibrating against your hand. Refusing to release him, you walked backward, step by cautious step.

When you embarrassingly stumbled over your own foot, Dean grabbed your hips and hoisted you up. Your legs lifted and wrapped around his waist. Your arms remained draped around his neck. He pulled back to ask where your bedroom was. You waved in its direction, too distracted by nibbling on his collarbone to put in much effort.

He moved like a man on a mission, and you wondered how Becky had seen his feelings so clearly when you hadn’t. Stepping up to the side of the bed and laying you out across it, he leaned back, despite your whined protest. His eyes trailed over your form again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Damn, darlin’,” he purred as he shrugged out of his jacket. “Fucking beautiful.”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him down atop you. Arms and legs wrapping around him. He chuckled against your mouth before your teeth and tongue coaxed it into a groan. Desperate, you dug your fingers into the back of his shirt. Gathering the material to drag it over his head.

When it snared on his elbows, you left it for him to untangle and clasped your mouth on his collarbone. Your hands dropped to his belt, and you swore to yourself that if Seth limped through your door to interrupt _again_ you would murder him. Rip his bum leg off and bludgeon him with it. Blessedly nothing popped up to ruin the moment, and your fingers quickly worked the buckle free.

You reached around and shoved your hands under the waistband, gripping his ass as you rocked up against him. Groaning, he tossed his shirt to the floor and grabbed for yours. Slipping his hands under the hem and running them up your sides, he rucked your shirt out of his way. Not bothering to remove it completely before he ducked his head to your stomach. You struggled it over your head and dropped it, his hands already working on your pants as his mouth kissed and licked its way lower.

“What are you planning?” you asked, hand cupping the back of his head.

“Seems pretty obvious,” he answered, pushing your pants and underwear down your legs so they were tangled at your ankles. “Putting my lack of smell to good use.”

Your insides clenched with anticipation, but you were sure he would use it more as an excuse to tease you. “That sounds amazing, but I want you _inside_ me. _Now_.”

He grinned up at you. “You’re _incorrigible_.”

“Good.”

After a playful nip to your inner thigh, he rose back over you. You kicked your pants and underwear free as you helped shove his down his legs. Your clothing haphazardly dumped to the floor, he settled between your thighs, mouth closing over yours. You rolled your hips, whining when he merely kept kissing you, as thoroughly as he possibly could. Your fingers dug into his ass again, urging him to rock into you.

His hand slipped between your thighs, fingers teasing through your folds. “Too damn dangerous,” he murmured against your lips.

You whimpered your agreement, nodding frantically.

He cursed under his breath and shifted away.

You clutched at his arm, whining, “Where are you going?”

He grabbed his pants and riffled through the pockets until he found his wallet. “Safety first, darlin’,” he mused with a wink.

Your head flopped back against the pillows. “Jeez, I thought you’d changed your mind.”

He paused in rolling the condom on to look down at you. “Not in a million years. Not with you like this, spread out and begging for me.”

“Then _give_ it to me already,” you demanded petulantly.

He chuckled as he settled back over you, his hips cradled by yours. With another languid kiss, he guided himself home, sinking into you slowly but surely. You moaned into his mouth, thighs clenching around his waist, ankles crossing to hold him as close as possible. He rocked against you, barely moving.

“I won’t break,” you promised amid your gasps.

“I know,” he said, voice strangled, face buried in your throat. “But I might break apart far too soon.” He huffed a breath with his next thrust, still more shallow than your body craved. “God, I’ve wanted this so long. All keyed up.”

“You promised me stars. I know you won’t break your word.”

That earned you the laugh you were hoping for, his teeth nipping your pulse point. “Never.”

Your fingers gripped his hair and pulled his head back so he was looking at you. “So, give me the damn stars, Ambrose.”

A growl vibrated through him, a new focus coming over him. He clenched his jaw and thrust into you in earnest. You gasped, arching against him. Each thrust felt calculated, driving your arousal higher and higher. His thumb slipped down to circle that aching bundle of nerves. Your insides clenched as you teetered right on that delicious edge.

You pulled his mouth to yours, and dug your heels into his ass, rocking up to meet his next thrust. You burst apart, head falling back, spasms pulsing through you. “ _Dean_ ,” you cried, sending him crashing into his own release. Hips faltering in their rhythm, his body shuddering as he groaned, his weight pinning you beneath him.

Your muscles relaxed, legs slowly slipping back to the bed. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he gasped. As you panted, your pulse beginning to slow, you carded your fingers in his hair, cradling the back of his head. After a moment, he shifted, rolling to his side and guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Tucked into his side, you felt safe and warm and right.

“I see what you mean about the stars,” you murmured. “You can show them to me again whenever you want.”

“Oh, darlin’,” he purred. “I’ll show them to you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I don’t know,” you mused. “Forever’s a pretty long time. Sure you could keep it up in your nineties?”

He stilled against you, and you were suddenly terrified you said the wrong thing. When you glanced up at him, you found tears in his eyes. Before you could speak, he gripped your face and kissed the breath from you.

When he pulled back, he waited until you managed to pry your eyes open before he whispered, “No one’s ever wanted me that long.”

Your heart clenched, and you felt the sudden need to beat Seth—and all the other assholes who had ever made Dean feel inadequate—over the head with a steel chair. You cupped his cheeks. “I do,” you promised fiercely. “Now that I have you, nothing’s going to make me let you go.”

He smiled, blinking away his tears. “People are gonna think you’re as ‘crazy’ as I am.”

“They can hang,” you said. “Far as I’m concerned, your opinion is the only one that matters on the subject.” You gave him a stern look. “And you’re not crazy.”

“ _I_ know that. Not sure how most of the other agents don’t.”

“The ones who matter do, like your brothers.”

He nodded. “Even the shrink saw it, but whatever, I guess.”

“How _did_ you get him to pass you in one, admittedly short, session?”

“Haven’t you heard?” he affected Carmella’s Stanton Island drawl. “Roman threatened to ‘break his old ass in half.’”

You snorted. “I’m sure _someone_ threatened him, but it wasn’t Roman.”

Dean gave an offended sniff. “You wound me, madam.”

“If you’re honest, I could make it better. With my mouth.”

“Sure you’re not just saying that so you don’t feel guilty for taking advantage of my shitty nose?” he jibed, though heat was clear in his eyes.

“Oh, for sure,” you agreed. “I mean, I didn’t even get to experiment with your nipples yet.”

His lids lowered. “Same, darlin’. Same.”

Heat coiled in you again, but you refused to let it distract you. “How’d you do it?”

“I told him the truth, and when he asked me if I thought that was normal, I talked him into admitting his own desire to hurt an old colleague for taking credit for our dear shrink’s work. I might have insinuated how much of a shame it would be if that got out. Which was when Roman hummed in agreement. I almost laughed out loud at the way the shrink’s head snapped around at Ro, suddenly remembering he was even there. I didn’t even have to ask the shrink to sign off. He just did it, shoved the form at me, and asked us to leave. He took that extended leave all on his own.”

“I’d say if you were sound enough to plan that out, then you were sound enough to get cleared.”

He was looking at the ceiling again. “Seth wasn’t the first person I trusted who hurt me. I’d already worked through betrayal a couple times before. Seth’s did hurt the most though. But still having Roman got me through.”

Your finger trailed over his scarred shoulder. “This wasn’t from Trips, was it?”

He sighed, shaking his head.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He glanced down at you, a genuine smile lifting his lips. “Not right now, darlin’. We got plenty of time for all that. You promised me forever. Right now, I want nothing more than you beside me in this comfy bed and to finally get a full night’s rest.”

“Same, Dean. Same.”

He leaned down to kiss you, long and languid once more. When he pulled away and settled, you sighed and curled deeper into his side. As you drifted off together, his hand cupped the back of your head, fingers brushing through your hair. You’d lived in this apartment for more than a year. This was the first time it felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Since she has known this has been forthcoming (and I left just enough unresolved to allow for one), she is already demanding a sequel. So if you enjoyed this roller coaster of feels, keep an eye out for that.


End file.
